A Planter

A friend told me I was a planter. Dropping seeds in the ground, and hanging around, just long enough to make sure they take.

And it’s strange for me now, to move from side to side, instead of up.

I don’t know the flow, or which way to go, when God calls me across.

I can’t see the leaves, when I’m just sowing seeds, and it feels like a loss.

Moving up the ladder, growing numbers, raising the bar. For myself. That’s what I know. That’s what I’ve had to show. For myself.

But who I was, isn’t who I am. And roots don’t take when, you aren’t supposed to get a stand.

It’s felt like fallow, because I don’t see the growth. But my waiting, God calls hallowed, and He tells me child, you don’t have to do both.

I don’t have to count rows now, across the field. He showed me it’s about the seed now, and not about the yield.

I plant and He grows.

I obey and Grace flows.

I pray and He knows.

My heart.

“What then is Apollos? What is Paul? Servants through whom you believed, as the Lord assigned to each. I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth. He who plants and he who waters are one, and each will receive his wages according to his labor. For we are God’s fellow workers. You are God’s field, God’s building.”
‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭3‬:‭5‬-‭9‬ ‭